While Angels Slept (29 page)

His smile was
completely vanished as he stared at her with big eyes. After a moment, he took
the hand she had placed on his wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing it
reverently.  Val had no idea why tears sprang to her eyes, but they did. The
streamed down her temples as she watched him gently kiss her hand, her wrist. 
It was the most wonderful moment she could have even imagined.  When he was
finished kissing her hand, he moved to her head, very carefully cupping her
face between his two big hands. He just stared at her.

“You are far
braver than I am, my lady,” he murmured. “You have spoken everything that is
within my heart but have been too afraid to speak the words. I never thought...
I did not believe you would be receptive.”

She grinned at
him, thrilled beyond measure at his tender touch. She had dreamt of this moment
and now that it was upon them, she could never have imagined it to be this
wonderful.

“I am
receptive,” she whispered.

He lifted his
eyebrows. “Enough to give up the sword to become my wife? I do not want to
marry a woman who can out maneuver me in battle or best me in a fight.”

She giggled. “I
promise that I shall lay my sword down if I am your wife. Unless, of course, you
ever have need of me.”

His eyes
glittered as his gaze drifted over her forehead, her eyes, the shape of her
lovely face. “I will have need of you,” he whispered as his face loomed closer.
“But not in that fashion.”

His lips claimed
hers, a sweeter kiss neither of them had ever known.  He suckled her lips,
tasting her for the first time, thinking he’d been a fool not to have done it
sooner.  The gentle kiss turned passionate and, instinctively, he moved to put
his arms around her and pull her close but she yelped in pain as he tried. 
Startled, horrified, he backed off.

“I am so sorry,”
he whispered. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

She laughed it
off, her lips red and moist from his attention. “Not to worry,” she assured
him. “It is of little consequence considering I have been waiting for weeks for
you to kiss me as you just did.”

His grin
returned, as did his hands to her face. “Why did you not tell me this?”

It was her turn
to look horrified. “And risk your rejection, or worse? You would have thought
me to been a horribly forward creature.”

“I would have
thought you to have given me an invitation of a lifetime.”

She giggled and
he kissed her again, being very mindful of her injuries.  But he had duties to
attend to, much as he was reluctant to leave her. Only when Val swore she would
not leave the bed and would wait impatiently for his return did he force
himself away from her. Heart racing and limbs tingling, he quit the knight’s
quarters.

Tevin wondered
why Myles had such a huge grin on his face when he saw him crossing the bailey
a few minutes later.  Realizing he had just come from the knight’s quarters, he
began to suspect why.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The day had been
long and tense, bouts of fear coming in waves as the sun traveled the sky. 
Sometimes, Cantia was quite calm, but other times, she was in tears of terror. Yet
none of those feelings were particularly productive. As Cantia sat in her
prison along with Hunt and Arabel, she truly wondered what was to become of
them.

The camp had
been active all day. At least, what she could hear from inside her dark and
smelly prison made the place appear very active. Sounds of people were all
around her, shouting, working, doing what they needed to do in order to
survive. After Gillywiss had left them, no one had bothered them except for a
woman who had come to bring them food.  She brought them a rather large fare of
small apples, pears, three roasted rabbits, and two large loaves of dark bread.
Cantia and the children had eaten until they nearly burst.

With bellies
full, they were able to think more clearly. Arabel still seemed to be feeling
poorly, having slept all morning and in to the afternoon, and Cantia was very
concerned for the girl.  There was a hole dug in the ground in one corner of
the hut that they quickly discovered was the chamber pot because it smelled up
the entire room. Cantia had helped the girl use it, once, as Hunt sat on the
other end of the hut and faced the wall to afford Arabel some privacy. 

Arabel had been
embarrassed that she required such assistance but there wasn’t much she could
do about it, so she thanked Cantia profusely for her kindness and swore she’d
be as little trouble as possible.  Cantia had merely smiled and touched the
girl’s cheek affectionately.  As a mother, it was in her nature to be helpful
to a child and she truly didn’t mind.  Every time she looked into that
beautiful face, she saw Tevin.  She was happy to do what she could.

The dusk settled
cool and dark, and as the moon began to rise, silver shadows were cast upon the
land.  Owls hooted and other creatures of the night rooted around for the
supper as Cantia sat on the ground next to Hunt, her arms around the boy as the
hut grew very cold and dark.  As she rocked Hunt, attempting to lull him to
sleep, the door to the hut jerked open.

Startled, Cantia
stopped rocking her child as Gillywiss entered the chamber and pulled the door
shut behind him.  He had a fish oil lamp in his hand, a bowl of liquefied fat
with a floating wick that gave off a significant amount of smoke and light.  His
dark eyes found her in the dim hut and, as she had seen earlier in the day, he
flashed her a rather crazed expression complete with big toothy smile.

“My lady,” he
greeted. “And how are you faring on this beautiful night?”

Cantia was in no
mood for his jovial attitude. “Cold,” she said flatly. “It is cold and dark in
here.”

He looked around
as if just noticing the darkness.  “So it is,” he said, finding more interest
in her bags over by the wall. “Do you not have something warm to wear?”

Cantia watched
him set the lamp down and pull open a satchel. “We need a fire,” she said. “The
children need warmth that cannot be provided by clothing.”

Gillywiss was
back to digging around in her bags, pulling forth the garments he had so
carefully replaced earlier in the day.  As Cantia watched, the man began
pulling them on again, inspecting the fine fabric, running his fingers over the
delicate stitching.  It was the second time that day he had come to put on her
clothes and rifle through her belongings, and Cantia was quite curious about
his behavior.  In moments like this, she could almost believe he was
non-violent and rather sympathetic. In fact, she thought she might try to take
advantage of his fascination for her wardrobe.

“My lord,” she
said softly, “if you like the coats so much, I would happily exchange them for
our freedom.”

Gillywiss looked
up from the orange-colored surcoat he was presently inspecting. His dark eyes
were curious on her, perhaps even interested, but before he could reply, Arabel
spoke.

“My lord,” she
said in her sweet, child-like voice. “I am the Lady Arabel du Reims.  My father
is Viscount Winterton.  As Lady Cantia said, he will reward you greatly for
delivering us to him, but I would like to offer you all that I have so that you
may let us go.  I.. I have fifty gold crowns, some jewelry, a white goat and a
black and white pony that I would give you if you will only let us go home. I
promise I will have these things brought to you if you will... please, I just
want to go home.”

The last words
were spoken in tears.  Cantia went to the girl to comfort her, pulling her up
into her arms and rocking her gently.  Arabel was so tiny that it was like
holding Hunt on her lap, and Cantia soothed the girl softly.

Gillywiss was
watching the exchange carefully.  He wasn’t very adept at hiding his feelings
so he looked away, back to the satchel, and began to pull out more belongings.
He could hear Arabel weeping and Cantia’s soft words, and it fed both his guilt
and his irritation.  As his rummaging began to grow more agitated in motion, he
began to realize there was someone beside him.  He turned to see Hunt’s big
blue eyes gazing up at him.

“Do you have a
boy?” the child asked.

Gillywiss seemed
reluctant to answer but he did. “Nay,” he replied. “No boy. Just girls.”

“A wife?”

“She is dead.”

He turned his
attention back to the bag and Hunt joined him.  The little boy reached into his
mother’s bag and pulled forth a beaded belt, handing it to Gillywiss.  The man
slowed his digging, meeting Hunt’s gaze with some reluctance. It was clear that
he was having some difficulty ignoring what was going on around him. Arabel’s
weeping was pathetic and sorrowful, and Gillywiss was feeling it.

“I am not a bad
man,” he finally said, looking over at Arabel and Cantia. “There are those in
this village who would slit a man’s throat as easily as speak to him, but I am
not one of them. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Please take my
offer,” Arabel sobbed. “I want to go home. I want to see my father.”

Gillywiss looked
at the frail young girl, his sense of remorse growing. He wasn’t any good at
fighting off his feelings, torn between knowing he shouldn’t care yet
inherently caring.  A sick child’s tears were not to be ignored.

“You would do
this?” he finally asked her, some disbelief in his tone. “You would give me
everything you own just to go home?”

Arabel nodded
vigorously. “Aye, I would. Will you not accept, sir?”

Gillywiss
pondered her words before letting his gaze move to Cantia and then to Hunt. He
knew about the nobility of this country; he knew they were all arrogant and
greedy, men and women included.  They sucked the peasants dry and still
hungered for more. He’d spent his entire life knowing these facts, yet when he
looked at Cantia and the children, he did not sense greed or arrogance.

In fact, he
sensed a good deal of compassion, of intelligence, and of kindness, especially
from Cantia. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, to be sure, and he knew he
could sell her to the highest bidder for a great deal of money. But the truth
was that he had no desire to sell her.  She intrigued him greatly. The whole
family did, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

“Tell me
something,” he sat back on his bum, Cantia’s fine things still on his head or
in his hand. “You have a desire only to see your father?”

Arabel nodded
firmly. “Aye, sir.”

“Why not your
mother? I do not understand the relation of this woman to you.  She says she is
the viscount’s wife, yet she is not your mother?”

He was pointing
at Cantia, who looked at Arabel as she thought of an explanation. “Arabel’s
mother abandoned her when she was a baby,” Cantia said softly, hoping that if
she divulged personal details, the man might feel more of a connection to them
and, therefore, more sympathy in his decision to let them go. “She knows no
mother.”

Gillywiss lifted
an eyebrow. “But you are the viscount’s wife?”

Cantia hesitated
a moment before shaking her head.  “Not in the eyes of the church,” she
whispered. “But we are married in our hearts.  That will never change.”

Arabel hadn’t
heard of the true relationship between her father and Lady Cantia when she had
been at Rochester, but in truth she wasn’t surprised.  She had seen the way her
father looked at Lady Cantia and, if she thought on it, she wasn’t all that
upset about it. She liked Lady Cantia and she wanted her father to be happy. He
was, in fact, a very lonely man, and Lady Cantia was very kind.  More than
that, she understood why her father could not marry Cantia.  She was young, but
she wasn’t ignorant in the least. Like her father, she was exceptionally bright.

“My mother left
me when I was born,” she said. “Although my father told me that she had to go
away, I know it was because she did not love me. I was born sick and I must
have chased her away and made her ashamed.  My father cannot marry again
because he is still married to my mother even though she ran away from us.”

Gillywiss was
listening seriously to a rather tragic, and very personal, story. His dark gaze
found Cantia. “Is this true?”

Cantia couldn’t
look at him; these were thoughts and situations that she had only discussed
with Tevin.  Now a stranger was hearing them and she was uncomfortable.

“Aye,” she
murmured, looking at Arabel and stroking the blond head. “Arabel’s mother ran
away fifteen years ago and no one knows what has become of her. Tevin...
Viscount Winterton... has every intention of hunting the woman down, or at
least finding out what has become of her, so that we can be married.”

“Do you know
where the woman has gone?”

“Paris, he was
told, but that was many years ago.”

“Her name?”

 “Louisa,”
Arabel said before Cantia could reply. “Louisa Berthilde Solveig Hesse. I am
named for her. She is from the House of Hesse. Do you know where that is?”

Gillywiss smiled
faintly; the young girl sounded as if Hesse was perhaps at the ends of the
earth.

“Germanic,” he
said, looking to Cantia again. “Then you are the viscount’s mistress.”

Cantia had told
Tevin once that she would be his mistress even if they could never be married
simply because she loved him.  It was usually a shameful title, but she was not
ashamed, not in the least.  She looked Gillywiss squarely in the eye.

“Aye,” she
answered without reserve. “I am very proud of it, and of him. He is a
remarkable man.”

Gillywiss,
pondering the conversation, returned his attention to the satchels against the
wall, now open with items scattered.  He began to dig around in the bottom of
the bag, searching for items he had missed the first time around, but as he
groped around, he could hear voices in the forest that were growing louder.